


From the Beginning

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: One Holmes brother doesn't appreciate what's right in front of him, but what about the other?





	From the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> Inspired by a blind prompt from afteriwake -- "You're the only one I trust to do this."

“You’re the only one I trust to do this, Dr. Hooper.”

Molly sighed quietly as she used her shoulder to keep the phone to her ear while she changed out of her party dress into something she could work in. _I wasn’t even on call tonight and now I have to do a postmortem on some poor woman when all I really want to do is drown myself in Ben & Jerry’s and red wine. _“It’s really not a good night for me, Mr. Holmes.”

“Evidently, it wasn’t a good night for the victim either.”

She stopped getting changed long enough to pull her phone away, stare at it incredulously, then bring it back to her ear. “Are … are you trying to guilt-trip me?”

“With your work ethic, there’s no need. I’m simply trying to get you to be ready faster. A car is waiting outside for you.”

“Of course,” she muttered. “Tell them I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

* * *

After the awkward postmortem with Sherlock being there every step of the way and the even more awkward “not her face” conversation with Mycroft, Molly was so emotionally exhausted she was about to cry. Thankfully, she managed to keep it together until she left the hospital. Dawn was just breaking, one more reminder of the horrible night she’d had.

The same black sedan that had brought her to Bart’s was waiting but she ignored it, choosing to flag down a cab instead. _Or at least, I would if there were any to be had. The snow is probably keeping them off the streets._ She started walking down the sidewalk, ignoring both the tears running down her face and the sedan slowly following her.

Just as she reached the intersection, she felt a hand take her elbow.

“Enough,” Mycroft said, his tone firm but not nearly as cold as she was expecting. “You’re being foolish, allow me to take you home.”

She was about to protest but then she realized that he was right. Shoulders sagging from the weight of the evening, she nodded and allowed him to escort her to the car. Holding the door open himself, he waited until she was settled inside before he got in next to her.

He looked at her a moment before offering her his handkerchief. “My brother’s not worth it, you know.”

Molly didn’t even bother to pretend she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “He is to me,” she said quietly as she accepted the handkerchief and wiped her eyes with it. She sighed heavily. “Sherlock’s proven to me twice tonight that he doesn’t feel the same way, that should be more than enough but it just … isn’t.”

“You’re surrounded by eligible men, one of them must-”

She laughed bitterly before he could finish. “Mr. Holmes, most of the men in my life are either married or dead.” She could swear his lip twitched in a smirk at her joke but in the darkened car, it was hard to be sure. “That leaves just John Watson, who’s not my type, and your brother.”

“Who is, or I should say, _was_ infatuated with Ms. Adler.”

“Right,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over Sherlock-”

“You will,” he said firmly. “You have too much heart to waste on someone who doesn’t return your feelings.”

Molly stared at him. _Didn’t Sherlock call him an emotionless robot?_ “Um, did you have a Christmas cocktail tonight, Mr. Holmes?” _Or three?_

He rolled his eyes. “What I have, Dr. Hooper, is the ability to know when someone is wasting their gifts.”

“You’re saying my heart is a gift?”

The car stopped in front of her house, saving him from having to answer. “Have a pleasant day, Dr. Hooper. I’ll make sure you are not called in again before your scheduled shift.”

“Um, thank you.” She tried to return his handkerchief but he declined.

“Keep it,” he said.

Not knowing what else to say, Molly nodded and got out of the car after the driver opened the door. She walked up the front steps and didn’t turn around to look until she’d unlocked the door but by then the sedan was already gone. Sighing quietly, she looked down at the handkerchief still in her hand. The blue embroidered initials MH stood out against the white linen.

_It’s a sign,_ a voice in her head that sounded a little too much like her mother said.

_Yes, a sign that M and H are very common initials._ Still, she made a mental note to keep the handkerchief safely tucked away in her drawer once it was clean. It was a nice gesture on his part.

Miles away, Mycroft sat in front of the fireplace in his study, a drink in hand. He was supposed to be saluting a worthy adversary, an uncharacteristically sentimental gesture as it was, but his thoughts kept drifting to the young pathologist.

“I hope your infatuation with my brother is brief, Molly,” he murmured. “You deserve infinitely better.” Whether or not “better” included him, he couldn’t say, but he hoped for both their sakes that it didn’t, despite what his formerly-dormant heart was telling him. _She’d be better off without a Holmes in her life._


End file.
